Bianca
Isaac and I were dancing. Not in front of a crowd, not for show, but just… dancing. His hands were warm on my waist, his blue eyes never leaving mine. I felt safe in his arms, like nothing could hurt me as long as he held me.
“Isaac,” I whispered, reaching up to touch his face. He smiled—not a smirk, but a real, genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners and my heart flutter—and tilted his face into my palm.
The dream shifted, and suddenly we were by the lake where I’d almost drowned. The wind fluttered through my hair and the air smelled like freshly mown grass.
It was perfect. And this time, instead of arguing, he was pulling me close. “I’m right here, Bianca,” he murmured. He dipped his head and brushed his lips against mine. The kiss was soft and sweet
